“Ever since you had all that trouble with Jean Pierre, you’ve been seeing this kind of guy. Mr. Jones, he’s…” Uncle John let go of her hand and grabbed the half-eaten beignet from his plate. “Like the beignet before you cook it, just so much dough in the bowl. But you, you’re the finished one, light, airy, coated with sweet sugar. Quite a treat, eh? When are you going to date a man to appreciate that?”
“I think you might be the only one to see it that way, Uncle John.”
He thumped his hand on the counter. “No, one day you’ll find the man who sees it that way, too. Then you better not be runnin’ him off.”
She laughed. “I’ll try to remember.”
He patted her cheek. “You take care of this little situation with the motorcycle, you hear.”
“I hear,” she replied, halfway to the door. Why her uncle had to mention Jean Pierre was beyond her. Most days she chose to forget that part of her life. She’d misjudged a man, just as her mother had. Only she’d had sense enough to get away before it was too late.
She smiled at her uncle’s comparison. Maybe that was why she wasn’t that interested in Paul. The description had been almost too exact. He could definitely be considered bland, but he was safe. He certainly would never raise a hand to hurt her.
Squinting against the sun, she stood on the sidewalk. Her uncle made sense. She needed to get the motorcycle back. But for some reason, every time she tried to clear her mind, the image of broad shoulders towering above her surfaced. Except this time he was flashing a smile at her, similar to the one he’d worn when she’d first caught him watching her in the bar. She doubted if he’d smile at her that way now. She tried to ignore what felt a lot like disappointment.
JACKSON GROANED, letting the shovel he’d been using drop to the ground. He recognized the driver of the red truck immediately. This was just what he didn’t need. His new boss must have heard about the episode at the bar yesterday.
Jackson had to admit he’d gone a bit too far. Matt Wright might be a fair man and a good sheriff, but he wouldn’t expect to find his newly hired investigator racing motorcycles and betting. The truck stopped at the end of the driveway.
Sweat ran down the side of his cheek, and Jackson dragged the back of his hand across his forehead, taking a deep breath as the sheriff of Cypress Landing strolled across the yard, coming to a stop in front of him.
“I can explain,” Jackson began, then paused. Could he? Maybe that wasn’t the best way to start this conversation.
“Don’t worry about it,” Matt responded quickly.
Almost too quickly. “Really? You’re not going to bust my butt?”
Matt laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. I should have done it myself a long time ago. But I just don’t have the knack.”
Jackson pushed the shovel with the toe of his boot. Something wasn’t right. “I guess I don’t, either.”
Matt motioned toward the strip around the house where Jackson had been planting shrubbery. “Seems like you’re doing a good job to me. I told you to do anything you wanted to the house. Keep the receipts and I’ll take it off the rent.”
He didn’t know. Jackson wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or sick. Maybe Matt would never find out. Jackson glanced at the Indian hawthorn he’d just put in the ground. He’d turned yard work into his way of dealing with the weight of the memories that sometimes threatened to bury him.
Matt was waiting for him to continue the conversation. He’d give it another day and if Matt hadn’t heard by then, he’d tell him.
“I… Yeah, I’ll let you know how much it cost. I worked with a landscaping company when I was in college, just something I learned how to do.”
Matt crossed his arms across his chest. “It sure helps the old place. Anyway, I came by to remind you we’ve got that volunteer search-and-rescue meeting today. I know you don’t officially start work until next week, but I’d like you to come by and meet everyone tonight.”
Jackson picked up the shovel. “I’ve got it written on my calendar.”
“It’s not the whole group, just the leader of each team. It’ll be a good chance for you to get into town and maybe start meeting the feminine side of Cypress Landing. We’ve got quiet a few head turners here.”
Jackson tried not to cringe. The last thing he needed was Matt matchmaking. He’d already had one bad experience with the “feminine” side of Cypress Landing. He wondered what would constitute a head turner in this town, other than the one he’d already met, then decided he probably didn’t want to know.
“I’m not interested in dating right now, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
Matt kicked a clump of dirt and Jackson tried to give a name to the expression on his face. Uncomfortable. That was it.
“How’s everything else going? I mean…you haven’t had any other problems here, have you?”
Jackson wanted to look away but made himself stay focused on Matt. It was a fair question. “If you’re trying to ask if I’ve been in any fights since I’ve been here, the answer is no.”
“I’m not trying to make this an issue. I just know that a big change like you’ve had, leaving the bureau and moving here, can be tough.”
Sweat beaded above his eyebrows and Jackson wiped at the moisture. “I’ve gotten control of the problem I had in Chicago. And I didn’t just leave the bureau, we both know that.”
“They made you an offer. You chose not to take it.”
Jackson’s mouth twisted. “That wasn’t an offer. It was a sentence.”
Matt shrugged. “Okay, then.” He began to walk toward his truck. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He should have told Matt what had happened at Sal’s. Keeping secrets from his boss wasn’t a good way to get started. Besides, he respected Matt. Cypress Landing’s sheriff’s department might be a far cry from the FBI, but the sheriff could have held his own with any agent Jackson knew. Matt had taken a chance giving him this job after what had happened with the bureau. They’d met five years ago, when he’d been here as an FBI agent on a case involving missing children. He and Matt had become friends and stayed in touch over the years. Matt had been supportive during some of his hardest times. When he’d needed to make a change in his life, the small-town sheriff had been there with an offer. Maybe it was the streets lined with live oaks, their branches dripping Spanish moss or the antebellum homes scattered throughout the area that sometimes made him feel like he’d stepped into a different time. It was fate that Cypress Landing needed a new investigator just when he wanted a new job. Chicago had become an ugly reminder of everything he’d lost. For two years he’d tried to keep going on with his life.
But he’d been living a lie. Gripping the handle, he jammed the shovel into the ground, his teeth jarring as he hit a rock. Lifting the blade, he knocked away a clump of dirt. The sun flashed on the metal, reminding him of a pair of flashing green eyes he was doing his best to forget.
Why was she constantly in his head? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she now owned his most prized possession. Sliding his hand along the shovel, he could almost feel the skin of her hand beneath his fingers. The shovel thudded against the ground when he dropped it again. This kind of fantasizing would get him in a world of trouble. With the pieces of his life only recently jammed back together, he didn’t need that woman scattering them all around again.
“WHAT’S BEEN GOING ON, Kent?”
The thin, gangly boy shrugged his shoulders and shoved an unruly clump of black hair from his forehead. Emalea wondered when he’d last washed his hair. A good kid at heart, he just needed a little guidance. Too bad he wouldn’t be getting any on the home front.